


Society Pretences

by GooseberryPicker



Series: Harriet and Lottie [2]
Category: JD's Victorian Omegaverse, Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Amateur Thespians, Autistic Character, Beta/Omega, Class Differences, Disability, Disabled Characters, Disabled Solidarity, F/F, Infodumping, Public Display of Affection, Stimming, Transdynamic Character, Victorian Omegaverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-05-14 11:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19272532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GooseberryPicker/pseuds/GooseberryPicker
Summary: Harriet and Lottie's otherwise blissful life together is only tarnished by malicious rumors spurred by the circumstances of their romance. Despite Lottie's own resignation to forever be an outcast, her mate is determined to defang the gossip by charming the haut ton. Together the newlyweds attend a high society gathering much like those which were once the bane of the Omega's existence-- and through unexpected overtures, common interests, and just a tiny bit of scheming, make unexpected friends.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Trespass Sweetly Urged](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17258696) by [GooseberryPicker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GooseberryPicker/pseuds/GooseberryPicker), [JD_Riley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JD_Riley/pseuds/JD_Riley). 



> So basically I fell in love with my own OCs, and the idea of them becoming friends with JD's OCs, so thoroughly that I had to write a whole fic about it. I'm expecting this to be fairly short, around 15-20k. Ideally I will alternate weekly between posting chapters of this and Whatever Mischances May Happen.

“Lord Bradcott.” Harriet accompanied her greeting with a perfunctory bend of her waist that passed well enough as a bow. Once righted, she brought her left hand up to rest over Lottie’s own, which clung to the crook of her right arm as if she were worried a stray breeze might be all it took to separate them. The touch seemed to reassure the Omega, her scent improving as the nervous tang that had arisen at the scrutiny of their host dispersed. 

Lord Bradcott’s eyes remained hard, face fixed in a barely disguised scowl which Harriet met with a bland smile with hardly any effort put into it. The older Alpha’s ire was firmly directed at her, rather than Lottie, so she felt no need to rise to his challenge. It wasn't him that she was here to charm, in any case, and she didn't much mind him knowing how little she cared about his disapproval. 

“ _Lady_ Bradcott,” Harriet continued, this greeting delivered with much more panache. She then inhaled just a bit, before she continued, allowing Lottie's familiar scent to bring an especially genuine warmth to her eyes as she spoke. “It is a true honor to be invited into your home. You are among the first to extend your hospitality to us since our wedding. I hadn’t the privilege to have been raised into such a refined sense of manners as your Ladyship, and I can only hope it is not too bold for me to express frankly my gratitude at your magnanamy in allowing us to make an appearance despite the…” she gave a little pause here, to give the impression of shame “...indelicacy of our situation.” Harriet had had enough experience playing the role of Dukes and Earls that, with only a little input from dear little Josephine to separate the wheat from the chaff, she had found it quite easy to plot out a loose script that she hoped would disarm most of the ninnies determined to sneer down their noses at her. Judging by the pleased notes in Lady Bradcott’s scent, and the tinge of pink that played over her cheeks, she seemed to have managed something acceptably pompous.

“It is hardly bold at all, Mrs. Reedstrom, and your words are very much appreciated. I myself believe that, were it not for the unkindness with which some society papers have reported on your affairs, our invitation would have been one of many. Once the ton has had the opportunity to acquaint themselves with you, I know that you shall see many more invitations this season.”

Before Harriet could part her lips to respond there was a small sound, like the coo of a pigeon, that came from behind the Lord and Lady Bradcott. She was just able to catch a glimpse of a small face, crowned with a feathered coiffure and peeking from around a doorframe, before it vanished once more. Lord Bradcott exhaled sharply through his thin nose, turning his head to the side and speaking up with a resigned sort of must in his scent.

“May I present, Lady Ottilie and Mrs. Reedstrom, my daughters-”

The two girls fairly bolted into the hall, like racehorses at the derby, and pushed their way in front of their father. Lottie stiffened like a stunned doe at their sudden appearance, but a tight squeeze of her fingers in Harriet’s grip provided enough reassurance to bolster her nerves and release her tension. The girls, Harriet observed, were identical down to their beauty marks and thus must have been twins-- though one was clearly an Omega and the other, judging by her clothes, a Beta. Harriet knew immediately that her success tonight would depend on her ability to dote upon the both of them equally.

“Lady Guinevere,” the Omega offered breathlessly, thrusting out her gloved hand to be kissed and fanning herself as if trying to fill the whole house with her rosewater scent.

“Lady Winifred,” the Beta blurted quickly after. Immediately after speaking she covered her face with her fan and giggled, a sound which immediately caught with both her sister and mother. Lottie, though generally somewhat wary of laughter when she's unsure of the joke, cracked a smile that Harriet caught in the corner of her eye.

“Lady Guinevere,” she greeted, letting go of Lottie's arm but for a moment in order to bow low and take the hand which had been stuck immediately towards her, reverently kissing the kid glove. “Such an enchanting gown you have, how it's features compliment the decoration of your hair-- though any vase should look like a masterpiece when it holds a bloom like yourself within its walls.” The girl grinned at her and Harriet could nearly hear the Omega’s pulse quicken at the praise.

“Lady Winifred,” she followed, repeating the almost ceremonial motion of the bow and kiss. “Your eyes _sparkle_ in that color, if I may say-- or perhaps they sparkle always, and it is only the hue’s fortune to be seen in their light, as it is surely mine tonight.” The girl turned red as a beet as her giggles caught up to her and had to be hidden once more behind a fan. 

Harriet took a moment to glance towards Lottie, who meet her gaze for a flickering moment. She was relieved to see in her expression that her show has not caused the little one any measure of insecurity-- perhaps because it was with her that Harriet had been rehearsing this very performance not an hour earlier.

“But I must digress,” she said as she straightened her back and retook Lottie's arm. “The two of you must be bored to tears by now of Alphas telling you you are beautiful.”

“Not at all, Reed,” Lady Guinevere exclaimed, seemingly unaware or else uncaring of the familiarity. Lord Bradcott, for his part, appeared near to apoplexy. It was perhaps a mark against Harriet’s honor that she did nothing to relieve him of his discomfort, but it was a mark she accepted. 

“May we call you Mrs. _Rhet Reed_ , Madam?” Lady Winifred cut in, more cautious of impropriety, as she uncovered her mouth and flipped closed her fan. “Or is it only a name for the stage? It is only that this is how we know you best.”

“We are _avid_ followers of the theater, you know,” Lady Guinevere added. “Mama takes us to the playhouses in London once a month, and more if Papa allows it.”

“Well, she did so until the start of the Season that is. Since then we've had only the newsprint reviews and our own imagination,” the Beta sister continued. It seemed they possessed that charming talent of twins, to pass a topic of conversation between them in a seamless way, which Harriet found quite interesting. “We’ve been hearing such wonderful things for the past few months, though we've only once been able to see you in person. Papa doesn't like travelling to the provinces more than strictly necessary.”

“We dearly hope that married life has not ended your passion for the theater, Mrs. Reed. Now that Mr. Thorne is committed in Bristol we hoped you might be challenging the hold he’s kept over London for some time-- any leading role written for an Alpha has gone to him as almost a guarantee. And of course he is a competent actor but, well,” Guinevere shot a look towards her sister, grasping for the correct words.

“His popularity with directors has allowed him to reign more or less unrivaled-- and it is often observed that the absence of competition will give an Alpha precious little incentive to develop their talents further.” Lady Winifred continued, granting her sister reprieve from her struggles. “Incentive which Mr. Thorne could benefit from, especially if it propels him in the direction of greater versatility. No matter one's talent in _one_ class of roles, one is not always suited to every lead.” 

“And even when one _is_ suited,” the Omega twin added, “one must be careful not to be overwhelmed by the character. Our dear friend, Midge, saw Mr. Thorne once in his production of _Gaslight_ \-- he slipped into his Voice in the first act and she fainted dead away. So did half the theater, I heard. And he continued right through it! Terribly rude.”

“You understand, we don't mean to speak unkindly of him,” Winifred interjected with characteristic Beta diplomacy, “but as an _Alpha_ actor one has a responsibility to one’s audience that goes beyond that of an Omega or Beta actor. Lady Guinevere means merely to say that, were it you upon the stage, it might be a small bit more comfortable for the Omegas in the audience.”

“And for the Betas too, Winnie?” Lady Guinevere whispered without much subtlety, shooting a mischievous glance at Lady Winifred who flushed and giggled again. 

Harriet, for her part, was entirely amused by these Ladies’ words-- behind the propriety it was clear that what they meant to say was that Buck’s success had made him lazy, and that he’d done nothing to improve his range despite the variety of roles he assumed. She found herself quite tickled by both their powers of observation and their sheer _gall_. At the same time, she could see quite clearly how Lottie must have suffered among these coy debutantes, who left most of the purpose of their words unspoken and disclaimed their barbs as soon as they’d thrown them.

“Girls,” Lord Bradcott spoke, his voice a low rumble, “I am sure Lady Ottilie should wish to sit for a spell, and perhaps refresh herself with some punch. It is hardly kind of you to keep her standing next to Mrs. Reedstrom by convention.”

“I am quite comfortable beside my wife,” Lottie piped up in her clear, flat voice. Harriet wasn't sure if it was her intent to sabotage Lord Bradcott’s attempt to close the conversation, or if perhaps she was merely unaware this is what he’d intended his words to be, but it threatened to make her laugh either way.

“We don't mean to keep you,” Lady Guinevere said, “we only...” The Omega’s voice trailed off and she turned to her sister, color high on her cheeks. This time Lady Winifred was unable to save her, fixated as she was on hiding as much of her face behind her fan as etiquette would allow, and the Omega had to steel herself and complete her plea alone. “It is only we were hoping you might be so kind as to, to read some lines for us. That is, for the entertainment of the guests.”

“Oh,” Harriet blinked, surprised by the request. Josephine had warned her of the possibility, admittedly, but Harriet had thought she was joking. “I, well, I'm not quite sure that it would be prudent. Isn’t the drawing room meant for showing the talents of the... fairer of the genders and dynamics?”

“Not solely,” Lady Bradcott replied. 

“I'm afraid that, should I agree, onlookers shall think I'd come here to strut and crow about as a braggart, rather than to enjoy your hospitality as a humble guest,” she sidestepped, hoping that perhaps this was an offer she was expected to politely refuse. “You know we actors are a bit infamous for such behavior.” 

“Rest assured, Mrs. Reedstrom, my daughters are hardly alone in hoping for you to grace us with your talents,” Lady Bradcott said. “We won’t be so cruel as to press you to make a decision immediately-- we ask simply that you consider it.”

“I... shall, my Lady,” she replied, sweeping her discomfort temporarily aside. “Thank you again, Lord and Lady Bradcott, for extending an invitation to us.” She turned to their hosts’ daughters, who gazed at her hopefully, and gave them a sly little smile. “Lady Guinevere and Lady Winifred, it has been an honor and a pleasure to make your acquaintances.”

As she bowed one last time and moved into an adjacent room in which the other guests were gathered, she felt a tension she had not realized she had been carrying lift from her shoulders. She exhaled and bowed her head to speak softly to the Omega upon her arm.

“How do you think I've done, my Lady?” 

Lottie ducked her head bashfully at the question. “You know I'm not the best judge of those things,” she mumbled.

“You are my wife,” Harriet replied. Just saying the word lifted the corners of her mouth and brought a warmth to her heart. “Yours is the only judgement that matters to me.”

Lottie lifted her head again, smiling as well.

“I think they are all _smitten_ \-- but for the Alpha.”

“I think so too. Though I wish I had known ahead of time that their daughters were _twins_ ,” she mused.

“Are they?” Lottie asked, turning her head in an effort to catch another glimpse of the Ladies. Thankfully they were out of sight and so could not take offense at her stare. Harriet laughed lightly.

“Now this is something about you which I still find a mystery. If you cannot pick out faces well enough to know they are twins, how can you pick them out well enough to know _I_ am handsome?”

Lottie affected a demure look, taking out her fan and fluttering it towards her chest. “Perhaps I do not know it for certain. Perhaps you will have to be _very_ dashing tonight so that I may remember, Alpha.”

“I will do my utmost. Would you like to get some refreshments now, or to sit first?”

“Uhm, just to sit at first, thank you Alpha.” Harriet guided her carefully to a chair at the side of the room, helping her to settle her dress before sitting on the chair beside her, leaning onto it’s arm with her chin in her hand.

“I will say I’m not sure what to do about their request. What think you, Little Lady Lottie?” 

Lottie looked towards her, her dark brows furrowing slightly “What about?”

“Should I read some lines for them, as they seem to wish?” Harriet asked, and when Lottie merely hummed in response, added: “If it would give you joy, I shall do it. If you have any hesitation, I shall let them down gently.” 

Lottie considered the prospect, the hum in her throat continuing as her hands rubbed briefly at her skirt.

“You may read,” she decided after a moment “but do not play Romeo.”

“How could I, without my Juliet?” Harriet laughed softly, and dared to reach out a hand to caress the Omega’s cheek. “You've retired my Romeo for good, I should think, unless he can play against you. He will accept no pretender Juliets, and neither will I.” Lottie bit her lip, her scent mellowing and her hands stilling on her skirt.

“Your constancy is admirable, Mrs. Reed.”

“On the topic of fidelity, my Lady, I hope I did not make you uncomfortable earlier with my flattery.”

“A few times,” Lottie admitted in her typical frank way, “but when I felt so I simply remembered...” the Omega leaned closer, tilting her head in a way that flashed her bondmark and reminded Harriet why Ciri had so confidently named the little Lady as the true seductress in their relationship, despite what the gossip papers might claim. “ _I_ am the one who gets to take you home with me, flattering mouth and all.”

There had been many times in her life in which Harriet had cursed the fact that she had not presented as hoped-- but in times like these, when Lottie teased her so in public, she was glad that she had only worry about hiding the faint spice of her scent, and not a more _physical_ manifestation of her arousal. Lottie giggled, her clever little nose picking up on the shift in her scent in an instant, and asked her to fetch her some punch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally Ladies Winifred and Guinevere were both Omegas, but I fell in love with the concept of identical twins having different dynamics. Also originally this scene was supposed to be 500 words tops, but I fell in love with the concept of Harriet shamelessly taunting an Alpha Lord with the fact that both their wife and their daughters have the hots for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lottie and Harriet meet Miles, and we gain some insight into what they've been doing since their wedding (besides shtupping each other senseless).

The next few hours went in much the same way as the initial introductions to Lord and Lady Bradcott had. Despite the foreboding predictions Thurston had made about her introduction to high society, Harriet did not encounter anyone in attendance who behaved with overt hostility to her presence. As the night went on she was bemused to note that, even if unwelcoming persons had wished to make snide remarks to her face, they would have to fight through a bit of a crush to get near enough to do so. 

It seemed that she was well admired among the younger generation of the gentry, who all seemed to find acting such a mysterious and intriguing craft, and fairly mobbed her once they had procured introductions from Lady Bradcott. She did her utmost to be charming, though it was difficult to stop herself from narrowing her eyes at any Alpha Lord who appeared the right age to have shared a season with Lottie. Perhaps it was best that she was kept occupied by socializing. If she had enough spare time on her hands she might have tried to sniff out some of the brutes that had treated Lottie so unkindly. And if she found any she would certainly be tempted to cosh them about the head right there in the Bradcott’s fancy mansion.

Lady Lottie stuck to her arm as much as possible, and seemed almost to _preen_ every time kind things were said to Harriet, though when the noises and scents and voices were too much she would give Harriet’s arm a squeeze that signaled her wish to be guided back to the relative peace and quiet of her seat against the wall. Unfortunately Harriet found that if she sat beside the Omega, a group would quickly gather around them and quite defeat the purpose of Lottie’s retreat. As such she had to deposit her wife and then return to the center of the room, keeping an eye on her the whole time until Lottie gave her a nod which indicated her willingness to be retrieved and to return to the fray.

Before long nearly half a dozen debutantes had asked Harriet if she would be giving a performance-- she could not be sure if they had been put up to it by the Ladies Guinevere and Winifred, or if there really was such an earnest interest in her acting. With Lottie’s own experiences and Thurston’s warnings at the forefront of her mind, Harriet worried that this could quite possibly be a trap meant to embarrass her. Her own dignity was not much of a concern to her but she was loathe to do anything that could expose Lady Lottie to the possibility of mockery by association. Lottie herself had given her consent to the whole affair, but Harriet still felt compelled to try to protect her Omega from any discomfort (could Lottie read her mind, she would surely roll her eyes at her terribly Alphalike presumptions of omnipotence). 

It was this issue that occupied the back of Harriet’s mind so totally that she did not notice when Lady Lottie fairly sprang up from her seat and brazenly crossed the dance floor to be at her side-- only looking up from a rather dull conversation with a dowager countess at the sound of her wife’s voice.

“ _Harriet,_ ” Lottie called, her hands twisting at the level of her shoulders like maypole ribbons in the breeze, her eyes focused entirely on Harriet. “I've just seen the most _interesting_ person and I must have you with me when I speak to him.”

“Oh?” Harriet quirked a brow, quite curious as to who could have provoked such fascination in the Omega. She turned to the dowager countess, who was looking at Lottie with stunned disapproval. “My Lady, would you please excuse me? I regret ending our discourse so abruptly but my mate is in need of me.” The woman conceded, though she muttered something displeased about _newlyweds_ to herself as Harriet rose.

“Tell me little one, what has you so gleeful?” though the Omega’s face was placid, her scent and the motion of her hands could mean nothing but joy.

“I cannot show you for it is rude to point, but he is an Alpha, and I must ask him something. You know I am, uhm, not so good in using my words to charm. I don't wish to make a fool of myself.”

“Alright, well, lead the way-- though this time we should stick to the perimeter rather than cutting through the dancers.”

Lottie stilled her hand enough to hold it up in an entreaty for Harriet to wait a moment. “First we must find someone to introduce us. I don’t know who we can ask, but you cannot speak to someone without an introduction.”

“Ah,” Harried said with a wink, “But _I_ don't know that.”

Lottie’s face fell briefly into confusion.

“But of course you do, I've just-” her brows popped in understanding “Oh! Oh, how devious.” Her hands fluttered once more, settling only when Harriet offered her arm and the Omega took it.

Lottie guided her to an out of the way corner, and it was clear to Harriet immediately what had fascinated her little Lady about the Alpha who they found dozing there. He had a rather interesting contraption-- a chair with large sturdy wheels at the back, almost like a cart but with no one in front of it. His head was resting upon his fist, his other hand over the cover of a book which was laid out over the blanket in his lap. Harriet noted the ring upon his finger, an unusual accessory for an Alpha.

“We have caught him in a moment of vulnerability,” she quietly whispered to Lottie, “perhaps we-”

“Hello!” Lottie blurted, loud enough that the Alpha jolted in his chair with a snort. Once roused he blinked blearily at them, opened his mouth, and then closed it without having said a word. “I am Lady Ottilie Reedstrom, this is my wife.”

“Mrs. Reedstrom,” Harried supplied, “though it seems almost everyone here knows me rather as Rhet Reed.”

“Huh- hello,” he replied, looking covertly around. “I, uhm.” Upon failing to spot what he was searching for, presumably his wife, he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “I am, uhm, Lord Whilton.” Lottie tensed, her scent spiking with a mixture of confusion and alarm and her low humming taking on a frantic pitch, and Harriet moved protectively in front of the Omega. Lord Whilton winced and quickly spoke again. “Pardon my hesitation, it was only recently that the title was transferred from my late _elder_ brother to me, and I am unused to it. I regret that it often causes me to be confused with him, but I can assure you we are _very_ unlike in our temperaments.”

“Oh,” Lottie’s voice carried a subtle tone of relief, and she nudged Harriet aside so that she could eye him appraisingly, “I hope you mean that you are much nicer than your brother, Lord Whilton.”

Lord Whilton winced again “I hu hope he did not make you a victim of his impudence.”

“He did, but so did all the other Alphas, really.” Lottie waved her hand as if to dismiss the topic entirely, moving with barely a pause to the heart of the matter on her mind. “I'd like to have your chair.”

Lord Whilton’s face took on a baffled expression, his eyes began once more to dart around.

“Her ladyship can be a bit direct.” Harriet cut in, hands raised placatingly, hoping the Alpha had not taken irreparable offense at Lady Lottie’s imprecise wording. “Rest assured she has no designs to steal away with _your_ handsome personal vehicle, rather she is hoping that she might obtain a similar device. Lady Lottie, perhaps you might explain first the _reason_ for your interest-- perchance starting with explaining how we came to have our little school?” This gentle aside was enough to clue Lottie in to the need to tread a bit more carefully.

“Yes,” she said, her scent colored with slight embarrassed but not enough to be dissuaded from a second attempt, and after giving some intense thought, she spoke again. “You see, Lord Whilton, since settling the matter of my inheritance, I have acquainted myself with the extents of my Father’s estate and holdings and have realized that there is a good portion of land and money which is serving no particular purpose.”

“Lottie is very charitably minded, you see,” Harriet added, hoping to softening what could easily sounded like boasting, “and we have modest needs. She felt it a shame to not use her wealth for good.”

“We have a small school we have funded, based off of the schools opened for the Blind and the Deaf but ultimately of our own design, for pups with disorders of the brain who had been signed over by their parents to indefinite asylum. It is not very large, mind. As of now it is populated by only seven pups between six and fourteen years of age. When we first obtained custody our wards, we did not realize how many such pups were in lack of other faculties, such as those required to walk. Naturally they are so dear to us that we resolved immediately that we would adapt our plans, rather than send them back, as it did not seem that the asylums from which they came were doing any better in caring for their needs. Four of them have profound difficulties with ambulating, either constantly or on occasion, and have needed to be pushed in chairs with little wheels on the feet of them or else carried.” 

Despite tending towards brevity in most of her speech, when Lottie discussed those topics about which she was most passionate, she did so profusely and with conviction. It was in such situations that the Omega’s determination and her passion became most evident to all around her, and in which Harriet was perhaps most proud to stand beside her as her mate. As the Omega spoke the astonished look upon Lord Whilton’s face had faded, replaced first with curiosity and then tentative understanding as she continued to chatter.

“Neither we nor the staff we hired have much in the way of knowledge of how to equip them to move about themselves, should they have the wish and ability to do so. So,” Lottie’s eyes rose here to meet Lord Whilton’s before dipping again, “when I saw you operating your chair, I found it so novel a device that I simply had to gain an understanding of it.”

“You know,” Lord Whilton mused, placing his arms upon those of his chair in a motion that gave him a slightly more authoritative tone, though one still softer than Harriet expected in the average Alpha man, “this is not the first time I’ve been the subject of curiosity due to my chair, but it is perhaps the first time I have been pleasantly surprised by the reason. I assume you will want to know who I commissioned for it?”

“Certainly,” Lottie nodded decisively, “but it is also more than that. I had the thought that since you have such a chair you _must_ have certain other wonderful devices that could be of help to our pups, even those who cannot propel themselves by arm. And it may be that you could anticipate their needs better than us-- we encourage them to tell us what they require but some do not speak and most seem hesitant to make a request of us.”

“So it is a matter of general consultation as well?”

“Yes. If my Lord wishes a consultancy fee I will furnish it as best I am able.”

“I require no fee,” he replied, and Harriet was glad that he seemed amused rather than offended by the offer, “but I appreciate the sentiment.” He leaned forward in his chair, fingers steepled. “Tell me more, if you can, about this school. In particular, about the daily routines, as this might illuminate ways in which the pupils might benefit from the solutions devised for me.”

This was perhaps the _most_ stimulating request Lord Whilton could have possibly given Lottie, who immediately launched into a detailed accounting of the facilities and staff, the day-to-day operations, the lessons, the daily and weekly leisure activities. She described frankly the physical challenges their wards faced, though Harriet noted that she omitted any details which she knew or suspected the pups would not wish to be spoken about publicly. She was far more effusive when it came to extolling, at length, the individual skills and talents of each one of the pups. Harriet watched Lord Whilton for hints that he was becoming bored or irritated, as either case might require her to gently disrupt Lottie for the sake of peace, but he seemed somewhat invigorated by the conversation. She could see in his eyes that _Alpha_ glint that meant that a prospect had caught his interest in a substantial way. 

Lottie had been quite apt in noting that he would be a valuable collaborator-- her mate’s instincts on the matter were enough to allow Harriet to overcome her initial misgivings at the idea of some other Alpha involving himself in their work. From their admittedly brief meeting he did not seem like the kind of Alpha likely to come into a venture with an eye for taking over the reins. He certainly seemed to respect Lottie enough that he did not defer his comments to Harriet, as if expecting that an Alpha must surely be the expert despite all evidence to the contrary-- though of course that could be a matter of class. 

Harriet had not expected that she would have a chance to play the part of the silent partner tonight, and it was a pleasant surprise to see her wife coming out of her shell so quickly considering her initial misgivings. Harriet smiled as she stood silently beside her wife, gazing at the Omega with what she could only hope was a not _entirely_ undignified lovelorn expression. 

“Miles,” a voice rose suddenly from behind them-- silken and warm, deep for a Beta but not so deep as an Alpha’s and putting an instant halt to the conversation. Harriet looked back to catch sight of a Beta woman nearly as tall as she was watching them appraisingly with a glass of punch held in her hand. “There you are,” the woman woman passed by their side with a natural grace of movement that any actress would envy, settling next to Lord Whilton and moving a hand to his shoulder. “It seems you've attracted quite the company.” The motion served to highlight her ring, matching his, and the touch was familiar and almost protective. 

“Lady Whilton, I presume?” Harriet ventured. It was a Beta's Venture-- that is to say, as safe as bet as any-- if only judging by the way Lord Whilton turned to gaze up at her and lift his own hand to rest over hers.

“You presume correctly,” she replied, the ghost of a smile playing over her lips as she quirked a brow. “And if I may venture a guess myself, could it be that you are the much lauded actor, _Rhet Reed_?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hannah has her own agenda, and a choice is made.

Harriet paused a moment, considering her answer to Lady Whilton’s question. 

“I am indeed the same individual, my Lady. But as for being much lauded…” She gave a sheepish smile that was not wholly affected. “...That may depend on where and from _whom_ you’ve heard of me. Or perhaps, _read_ of me-- the theater reviews have been kinder to me than the society papers.”

Lady Whilton gave her a measured once-over and let out a small droning hum of consideration. “I assure you, Mrs. Reed, when it comes to matters of character, I am an excellent judge.”

Harriet was unsure if the Beta meant her words as a reassurance or as a warning. Perhaps a bit of both. Either way she was uncertain how to reply. In the brief but awkward lull, she became aware of Lady Lottie’s small foot tapping rapidly on the floor.

“Oh! Pardon, I’ve forgotten my manners completely,” Harriet rushed to say, gesturing to her mate “Lady Whilton, may I introduce to you my wife, Lady Ottilie Reedstrom.” Lottie gave a small curtsy, Lady Whilton a nod of acknowledgement.

“Are you done talking?” Lady Lottie asked as soon as she’d raised from her curtsy. “I would very much like to continue conversing with Lord Whilton, but it is rude to talk across people.”

Harriet nearly laughed as Lord and Lady’s eyebrows raised simultaneously in surprise, but managed restraint by biting onto her lip.

“Lady Ottilie,” Lord Whilton said, addressing his wife, “was just speaking with me about a program she has been developing-- a school for pups to serve as an alternative to asylum.”

“Ah,” Lady Whilton nodded, sliding her gaze over to Lottie, “are you looking for investors, then?”

Lottie shook her head. “We have enough money already, and it is not an investment really since we don't expect to make any profit.”

“So it is not like the homes in which they make baskets and brooms and such?” Lady Whilton inquired.

“Oh, no! It is not something wretched like a workhouse, nor are we intending them to live as slaves.” Lottie did not disguise her affront at the suggestion, and Harriet watched their new conversation partner anxiously for signs that she would take such a reply as a personal insult. “And no one has answered my question yet,” the Omega pointed out.

“Perhaps, my darling,” Harriet cut in, “if Lady Whilton does not mind the suggestion, she and I may stand aside to conduct our own conversation and so allow you to continue on with Lord Whilton without distraction?” Here Harriet was taking something of a risk-- she could not say if it would be considered outrageous to suggest a newly introduced Alpha and Omega converse with one another without their spouses mediating. Fortunately, Lady Whilton merely tilted her head ever so slightly and met the gaze of her husband. Harriet suspected the look signified a question as to the Alpha’s comfort with this possibility and not, as some might expect, a request for his permission. Whatever she saw in his face seemed to assure her, and she returned her attention to Harriet.

“Very well,” the Beta said, casting her eyes over to the corner of the alcove where a pair of chairs were tucked. “I hope you do not mind if we sit?” 

“Not at all, my Lady.” Harriet followed Lady Whilton’s lead, sitting across from her and checking that her mate was indeed consumed once more in conversation. As she watched the Omega made a little hop of excitement and lifted her hands to flap them about. Her heart warmed with a fondness that she could not imagine would ever lose its novelty. 

She realized, after a moment, that she had become consumed with watching her wife, and turned back to see Lady Whilton watching her in silence. She cleared her throat in an effort to dispel the awkwardness of the moment, scrambling for something to discuss.

“I’ve heard that the Gaiety Theater has recently put on a new comic opera,” she settled on starting with, remembering that a number of guests had been prattling on about it to her. “From what I gather, it is very well reviewed.”

"I'm not terribly interested in theater,” Lady Whilton replied, flipping open her fan and fluttering it towards her neck. “It’s all quite base, is it not? It strikes me as very shallow a pursuit." 

Any other night Harriet may have been tempted to roll her eyes at this reply, but tonight it was rather a relief. She was quickly becoming fatigued from having the same conversations again and again, which may be why another lull had begun to set in before Harriet realized a response was expected of her. 

"There are many who would agree with you, I'm sure," she replied before it could stretch on further, aiming for diplomacy. 

"I’ve overheard, though, that you intend to continue?" Lady Whilton prompted.

"I do, at least once the...” She searched a moment for the appropriate word. “... _Attention_ our marriage has garnered has died down."

"I'm surprised,” Lady Whilton replied in the mildest of tones, “that it should escape your awareness that this would be an ideal opportunity-- for your purse as well as your career-- to capitalize on your current presence in the forefront of society minds. If you represent yourself well enough, Alpha, you could get any role you wanted, on nearly any stage and with every critic in London in the audience.” She arched a brow. “Controversy can garner attention where talent has failed." 

Harriet smiled jovially. Lady Whilton was nettling her, she was sure of it. Provoking her, or at least trying to, though Harriet could not fathom why. Perhaps the Beta was playing with her, like a cat with a mouse. Perhaps in being the conspicuous interloper in their midst she’d made herself an obvious choice for victim. Well, better her than Lottie.

"I believe that you've hit upon the very thing causing my wariness, my Lady. I'd rather sink or swim on the merit of my own work than on the desire of the public to gawk. Perchance it is merely my artistic conceit guiding me, but one of the wonders of being wealthy, as I have recently discovered, is that one can afford to be pretentious rather than practical on occasion.”

She caught something in the Beta’s eye and the corner of her mouth that was almost a gentle sort of amusement, but it was gone as soon as it came and she could not be sure what had conjured it.

“Something your mate has helped you in realizing?”

“Not at all, in fact. Lady Lottie is remarkably free of pretense-- I find it one of her most admirable traits, though one often undervalued.”

"Do you imagine that is why she rather outperformed you in Bristol? The lack of _pretense_?" 

Harriet might have felt a sting at this remark, were it comparing her to any other performer and any other performance. But as it was her defenses melted despite herself-- for no facade of coolness could withstand the warm sun that was the memory of Lady Lottie’s Juliet, passionate and courageous and genuine to the core.

"Oh, there's no doubt in my mind,” she said with a breathy sort of reverence, heady with affection for her mate. “She's a rare talent, you know. It’s astounding the depth of emotion she pulls from herself. From everyone on stage, really.” She turned to look at her wife, rocking slightly to and fro and listening intently to Lord Whilton. “My performance that night owed everything to her. It did not feel at all like acting, rather it was as natural as taking a breath. There’s no leading Omega in all of England who could eclipse her on stage."

Conscious of the fact that she could easily lose the thread of conversation in her fondness for Lottie, Harriet drew herself back from the memory and turned back to Lady Whilton. It might have been a trick of her mind, but a trace of the fondness that had earlier shimmered in the Beta’s eyes seemed to have returned.

“I must beg your forgiveness, Lady Whilton, for despite you declaring a clear disinterest in theater, I’ve allowed it to be all we’ve spoke on since sitting down. Pray, let us discuss something that _does_ hold your interest.”

Lady Whilton charitably took this bait, discussing novels she had recently begun reading, particular sources of revenue on her husband’s estate that she’d lately taken an interest in, the antics of her pet dogs. Harriet was at least quite readily able to empathize with managing a household full of animals-- in particular the unassailable havoc all of that fur wreaked on one’s wardrobe. Somewhere along the conversation Lady Whilton turned to the topic of her family, revealing herself to be an Idlewind by birth. Fortunately Harriet knew enough about the family and it’s members to ask appropriate questions and (for the most part) avoid mixing up her sisters. She wondered what Lady Whilton might think if she knew Harriet’s familiarity was due to the fact that she’d once been solicited to play The Lady Earl’s expy in a melodrama blatantly based in her romance with her husband. She determined it best not to mention this, at least not now.

Gradually it seemed that whatever hostility Harriet had sensed in her initial exchanges with Lady Whilton began to mellow and subside. It appeared that they had come to some sort of turning point, though again Harriet could not be certain what precisely had changed. Perhaps the Beta had assumed her to be a vainglorious sort of actor, unable to sustain interest in any topic other than herself. Perhaps she’d expected Harriet might make things awkward by promoting herself endlessly throughout conversation. Perhaps the least savory depictions of her character had preceded her in the Beta’s mind.

A thought occurred to Harriet then, an opportunity that could prove either very clever or very foolish for her to pursue.

“My Lady,” she said at the first junction which presented itself, not giving herself the time to doubt her instincts. “I hope that it would not be too forward to ask your advice on a small matter. I wish to seek a Beta's perspectivem and as you are... not an admirer of the theater, you may have an objectivity on the matter which I am dearly in need of.”

Lady Whilton tilted her head ever so slightly in curiosity, continuing to fan herself.

“I cannot promise you my advice, Mrs. Reed, until I know more about the matter to which you refer. But I shall be willing to lend you an ear, certainly.”

“The conflict that faces me is, you see, bourne of my unfamiliarity with the customs of the ton. A number of Omegas have urged me to perform some theatrical scene for the entertainment of the guests.” Harriet pursed her lips, considering her words. “I am… uncertain if they are simply flattering me out of kindness, or if they truly expect me to indulge in a performance. I also have some concern that, in their passion and good humor, they might be unwittingly encouraging behavior which will appear quite boorish to everyone else assembled.”

“I do see your concern,” the Beta said. “Do you know how our hosts might feel about you performing?”

“Lady Guinevere and Lady Winifred were the first to suggest the idea, and Lady Bradcott supported them.”

“And _Lord_ Bradcott?” Lady Whilton prompted, having immediately picked up on Harriet’s omission.

“Has not voiced any opposition,” she answered, daring at a slightly cheeky smirk.

“You suspect him of it, though?”

“A mite,” Harriet admitted, “but he will tolerate it, I am sure, for his little ones.”

“And what of _your_ little one?” Lady Whilton pressed, nodding her head subtly in Lottie’s direction.

“Her consent was the first I sought, as with anything of consequence I do. I was a bit surprised to find her agreeing, I must admit, she is generally quite shy. Perhaps I was hoping the dilemma would be taken from my hands. If she'd said no then that would be that.”

“Shy?” the Beta laughed in an incredulous tone, turning her eyes towards Lottie, who was animatedly discussing banisters with Lord Whilton. “She seemed to me to be quite a firecracker.”

“You should see her when there's an Alpha in between her and something she wants.” Harriet grinned fondly, a dry chuckle escaping her quite reflexively at the memory of her little Lady speaking to Mr. Brewer as sharp and as cutting as any knife. “She roars like a _wildfire_. But she is not always so bold in the ballroom.” Harriet paused, thinking how she might describe the ways in which social gatherings often proved to be a trail for her mate without risk of feeding into gossip about her particular ways. “She is sensitive to scrutiny and, as you might have observed, she prefers to speak plainly and assumes that others will do so as well. Whereas…” She trailed off uncomfortably, uncertain how to express the sentiment she wished to convey without running the risk of reigniting hostilities between herself and Lady Whilton.

“Whereas most of the haut ton have made an art out of hiding their meanings behind implications and in the space of what is not said,” Lady Whilton finished helpfully.

“Eloquently put by what I can only assume to be a master of the art.” Harriet sighed in what she hoped was not too blatant relief. “Which only redoubles my conviction that you are the one to ask about my choice.”

“I shall not tell you which choice to make, Mrs. Reed, but I will advise that if you _were_ to agree, you’d best ensure it is made quite publicly clear that it is at _their_ insistance. Should enough Omegas plead for something, no one will fault an Alpha for wishing to provide it. I doubt it will be difficult to provoke such a display, the little ones do so clamour for anything dramatic.” Something occurred to her then, or so Harriet assumed from the shift in her eyes, and she rested her finger at the center of her lip for a moment more, then removed it to speak. “You have not heard it from me, mind, but the young Ladies Guinevere and Winifred _are_ known to be amateur thespians themselves. Should you find a way to encourage their participation, and thus ensure that the spotlight be shared, it should do a good deal towards preventing an unfavorable impression. Given your aversion to garnering attention from scandal, it may do you well to pander a bit to those who would invite you for the quality of your craft rather than the intrigue of your reputation. That is, of course, if you wish for more invitations.”

“Exactly the considered and pragmatic sort of advice I was hoping you might provide to me-- I am indebted to you Lady Whilton.” Harriet hoped the undertones of her scent conveyed the sincerity of her words. At times they could get lost under the false Alpha scent, which had a steadiness unfortunately more indicative of hollow flattery. “I think I shall agree, though now of course I must get at the task of executing your sound advice.”

“You know Alpha,” Lady Whilton said, looking her over, her own scent difficult to read. “Imagining myself in your position, I would expect you to be somewhat concerned about the possibility of being purposefully mislead.”

“Perhaps I too easily presume the honesty of the milder sex,” Harriet reflected. “But even if you did deceive me, after all, it is not as if I could do anything.” She gestured casually to where their mates remained locked in conversation. “With how well Lottie is getting along with your mate, I'd have no choice but to suffer my wounded pride in silence-- Alpha though I may be, I could never ruin a chance for my wife to make more friends out of my own resentment.”

“You're terribly _honorable_ , Alpha,” Lady Whilton said, the smallest hint of amusement blossoming in her mild scent. 

“To a fault, I've been told.” Harriet smirked. “Mostly by Lottie.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang Hannah, why you gotta come for Harriet’s life like that?? All shall be revealed in time...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harriet is, as usual, devastatingly charming.

Harriet's first task, after extracting herself politely from her conversation with Lady Whilton, was to find the two young Ladies Guinevere and Winifred. There was a certain stride an Alpha adopted when they had their mind on something, and Harriet employed it then in hopes of preventing herself from being waylaid. Fortunately this strategy proved as effective among the ton as among the general public, as it allowed Harriet to cross the room without being solicited for conversation. She quickly spotted Lady Guinevere’s feathered coiffeur near the center of the cluster of Omegas. She scanned the crowd for the Beta twin, hoping she might find her nearby-- and espied Lady Winifred hovering at the edge of the cluster, looking a bit forlorn in her exclusion. _Poor girl._

Harriet smoothed her lapels in a grounding gesture and approached the group, aiming to be subtle enough to be unobtrusive without giving the impression that she was attempting to sneak. She quickly attracted the attention of the Omegas, who looked towards her and then away like birds inspecting a new feature of their territory. They continued fanning their scent into the air as she drew closer, maintaining a protective barrier necessary in gatherings of mixed dynamics. As they were not pointing their fans towards her, to ward away her oaky Alpha scent in particular, she felt comfortable with continuing her approach.

“Good evening, ladies,” she greeted once she came just close enough that it still could be said that she was keeping a respectful distance. She wore an easy, crooked smile she well knew Omegas found very handsome on her. “I was hoping I might speak with the Ladies Guinevere and Winifred, should they be so generous as to allow me an audience.” Though she was close enough that she could call to the twins, or attempt to catch their eye, it was more diplomatic to address the cluster and acknowledge it’s protective role.

Lady Guinevere’s head popped up upon hearing her name-- as she was a tad bit tall for an Omega it was easy for her to peer over her friends’ heads without much effort-- and she smiled and came forwards immediately.

“I'm not sure where Winny-” she began, before noticing her sister, who had shuffled along the periphery of the cluster to likewise draw closer to Harriet. “La! There you are.” She looped her arm in her sister's and with her other hand fluttered her fan towards her neck, sending wisps of carefully curled hair floating in the makeshift breeze. “You must know, Reed,” she continued in a rather saucy tone, “that we cannot follow you into any dark corners or out of the way rooms. At least, not without our chaperones coming along.”

“What I wish to say requires no such secrecy-- and you can be assured that even if it did, I would never presume to lead an Omega beyond the reach of her protector. In fact,” Harriet turned her attention to the cluster at large and schooled her features into obviously feigned sternness. “I will hold you ladies to scold me if I overstep.” 

“ _Do_ hold us Rhet,” a voice piped from within the cluster, and was followed immediately by a burst of giggles which caught up every Omega in the cluster, and Lady Winifred, in it’s spell. Harriet played at bashfulness. It was nice for an Alpha’s ego to know she was desirable, even if no Omega could hope to hold a candle to her mate.

“What have you to ask us then, Mrs. Reed?” Lady Guinevere asked after the laughter dissipated, curiosity obviously piqued.

“I wish to know more about your interest in the theater,” Harriet answered. “I have been growing more and more curious about your astuteness in that realm since the conclusion of our first conversation.”

“Oh?” Lady Winifred prompted, surprise evident in her face though her scent remained ever mild.

“If I may, while many a Lady admits an interest in the dramatic arts, it is uncommon for them to have such keen eyes for individual performances.”

“You flatter us, Mrs. Reed,” Lady Guinevere playfully scolded. “Do continue.”

“Now this I must protest. Does not 'flattery’ suggest falsehood? There is nothing false in my admiration of your acuity. No exaggeration.” Harriet leaned in ever so slightly and let a bit of mischief into her grin. “Your observations on Mr. Thorne prove the both of you to be in possession of the insight of the finest critics.”

“Easy to say of a critic who sings one's praises,” Lady Guinevere replied, earning a shocked look from her twin and a gasp or two from the cluster. “Of course, we’ve only seen your performance ourselves but once.” She made a show of casually inspecting her fan, though her scent betrayed her diffidence. An interesting development.

“Pardon?” Harriet replied neutrally, drawing up to her full height.

“Would you not agree, Mrs. Reed, that there is a great deal that a good staging, a handsome costume, and a prestigious script can do to enhance the effectiveness of a performance? Perhaps the true test of our critical eye would be to see if our impression holds true in a less grand venue. Say, a drawing room?” Additional gasps came from the cluster, these less shocked and more titillated in tone, and Lady Winifred looked nervously from her sister to Harriet and back. 

Lady Guinevere was _challenging_ Harriet. Harriet very much admired her gumption. Based on the nervousness in her scent and the knowledge that she'd presented not long ago, she thought it might well be the first time the girl had dared to deploy her Omegan wiles in such a manner. It was a generally effective strategy for getting an Alpha to agree to do what you wish before they think better of it. It would likely have worked on a less prepared Alpha.

“And what sort of scene would you have me perform, so that I may assure you that your endorsements were not mislaid?” she asked, giving the Omega a somewhat peevish look.

“I suppose we assumed you'd read a monologue,” Lady Winifred piped up. “We know you are proficient in much of Shakespeare's works.” 

Harriet turned her attention to the Beta, who flushed slightly under her gaze.

“Ah, but then would I not be coasting upon my reputation, or as Lady Guinevere suggested, the prestige of the scene?” she asked.

“Oh,” Lady Guinevere said, evidently not having thought of this. 

“Further,” Harriet continued, raising her forefinger into the air to emphasise her next point, “a monologue does not test the mettle of a leading actor as much as acting in a scene _with_ someone does. A play made up of only monologues should be a bore, and is it not the most common complaint against Alphas on stage that they cannot share a scene, and that they too often act only in the manner of a monologue?”

“What might you suggest, then?” Lady Guinevere squeaked, seemingly having used up the majority of her gall in issuing her challenge-- and perhaps a bit cowed that it hadn't been as overwhelmingly effective as she'd hoped.

“Well,” Harriet mused, a thought coming to her which was rather devious, “in choosing a source to work from, I would be remiss not to consider the entertainment of your guests. A modern melodrama tends to please a wider array of folk than the Bard, and is rather more dynamic to watch.” Harriet paused but a moment before continuing, casting indecision into her voice, “I was hoping, actually, that you might have a copy of _Under the Gaslight_. I’ve auditioned for Ray before but never yet played him for an audience, and I’d wish to refresh my lines.”

“Winifred has a rather grand collection of scripts,” Lady Guinevere chirped, rallied by the opportunity to contribute, “she writes her own, you know.” Lady Winifred's ears went notably red, something Harriet gracefully pretended not to notice. “She must have _Gaslight_ , do you not, Winnie?”

“I d do,” Winifred stammered.

“It may seem odd of me to ask this, but by chance is your friend, the one who suffered an unfortunate faint due to Mr. Thorne’s Ray, here?”

“Oh, no, she is otherwise engaged,” the Omega replied. “Why?”

“I did not wish to risk causing her a shock by bringing up the memory, but if she isn’t present…” Harriet trailed off, smirking just a little as she did. “I thought perhaps, if you should be able to recall the portion of the first act in which Mr. Thorne slipped into his Voice…” 

“I _knew_ you were a _rascally_ one, Alpha,” Lady Guinevere hooted, clasping her hands together.

“Only in the most honorable of ways, I must protest,” Harriet replied without much actual protest. “If I am going to pose a rival to him, I must test my mettle against such a scene, must I not? It’s only sensible.”

“It was the confrontation at the first appearance of Byke.” Lady Guinevere supplied, her eyes wide. “Oh, this is terribly exciting, isn’t it Winnie,” the Omega gushed, “Rhet Reed performing in our parlor.”

“Though first I must find other persons willing to play against me-- if I recall correctly, both Laura and Pearl are in that scene, not to mention Byke. I could not imagine inconveniencing your guests by demanding their participation...” She frowned, letting the frustration play out in her scent-- an Alpha balancing courtesy with having to rely on others to rise to a challenge. She hoped they would take the bait, and not go back to insisting she perform a monologue.

“W what about us?” The offer came, not from Lady Guinevere as Harriet had expected, but from the still flushed Lady Winifred, who met Harriet’s eyes for a moment before swiftly looking away.

“You, my Ladies?” she asked, as if she had never thought of such an astounding thing in all of her born days. That was one nice thing about being an Alpha who was also very much a Beta-- it was quite easy to be a hawk under the guise of a pigeon. She affected a look of perfect surprise, placing her fingers to her breastbone. “Well, it is true that nothing of impropriety occurs in the scene, but surely it would be uncouth of me to accept...”

“We insist,” Lady Guinevere said. “You are our guest, and further you are doing us the favor of performing. It is the least we can do to facilitate this.”

“You insist...?” Harriet led.

“We insist!” the Omega repeated, taking her twin’s hand once more in hers.

“They're quite good, Mrs. Reed!” a voice called from within the cluster, betraying the avidness with which their conversation was being listened upon. A general muttering of agreement followed the pronouncement.

“So you’ve trod the boards before?” Harriet prompted.

“We've dabbled,” Lady Winifred admitted, still a bit shy. “When we were pups we loved playacting, with our friends and our cousins. More recently, we've put on a few plays for our family for the holidays.”

“I should love to see you perform.” Harriet smiled warmly, for she was in truth curious to see their talents. “With the both of you such devoted patrons of the theater, I do imagine you _would_ be skilled.”

“Then it is settled! I shall be Pearl, of course,” Lady Gertrude declared.

“Pearl?” Harriet repeated, slightly thrown that the outgoing Omega should pass by the starring role and instead choose the comic relief.

“She's a laugh. Most melodrama heroines are no fun.” She paused a moment to consider this statement. “Of course there is that rather thrilling scene Laura has with the axe, but that is nearly at the end.”

“Lady Winifred, will you play Laura, then?” Harriet asked of the Beta, who suddenly seemed doubly self-conscious, pulling her hand from her twin’s and grasping at her skirts in a motion that immediately endeared her for its similarity to her mates own mannerisms.

“Please do not feel you must make a charitable gesture for me, Mrs. Reed,” she replied. “I shall play the servant parts, or, or simply watch.”

“What gesture do you think am I making, my Lady?” Harriet asked softly.

“Do not tease,” Lady Winifred chastised, face going red once more. “There are Omegas here who would surely leap to play opposite of you. I would only garner laughter should I attempt to play an Omega...” 

A sort of excitement rose in the cluster behind her as she spoke, and Harriet suspected she should be inundated with offers should she look to them for her Laura, but she was taken by a sudden and steadfast determination to encourage Lady Winifred.

“You needn't play Laura as an Omega then, but as a Beta.” Harriet spoke in the sort of Alpha tone that was not quite an order, but was clearly meant as a statement that allowed for no argument.

“As a Beta?” the girl echoed.

“Why not, my Lady?” Impulsively, Harriet reached for Lady Winifred’s hand, holding it cupped gently between her own and giving her all of her attention “She's practical isn't she? Steadfast? Resourceful? Do Betas not deserve to be heroines?”

“It is always an Omega who is the heroine,” the Beta insisted, though she sounded almost doubtful now. “There are no leading roles for Betas, it's always been that way.”

Harriet leaned in and gave her a sly wink.

“Then let us start a _revolution_ , my Lady,” she said. 

Some of the Omegas around them were no doubt peeved and confused by this, but Harriet could see from the corner of her vision that Lady Guinevere was grinning boldly, and Lady Winifred’s mild scent had taken on a tone of delight. She gently let free the Beta’s hand, rocking back on her heels. 

“Of course, we are also in need of a Byke…”

“Mother will know someone,” Lady Guinevere contributed. “I shall tell Mother, and Winnie you shall send for your script.”

“Do you think your mother will approve?” Harriet asked, thinking that perhaps she should have run this by Lady Bardcott first. Lady Guinevere rolled her eyes.

“I would not worry. She knows if we don't secure other entertainment we shall be forced to endure my father reading an excerpt from _Beowulf._ ”

Harriet made the barest effort to hide her grin. “I knew not that the situation was so _grim_ , my Lady.”

“It is entirely so grim, I'm afraid,” Lady Winifred giggled.

The remaining logistics of the matter were sorted out in brief order, with Harriet and the Ladies Guinevere and Winifred agreeing to convene in a small study after supper to practice their lines before giving their performance to the guests. There was a tittering of excitement about the performance that spread past the boundary of the cluster, a hopeful indication that it was not just the Omegas who were interested in her performance. Once all had dispersed to their tasks Harriet was able to to relax somewhat. With everything else arranged, there were only the regular pre-performance jitters to process. 

She turned around so she might return to her mate, and was startled when she nearly knocked into a tall Beta standing directly behind her.

“Pard-” she began and abruptly stopped, recognizing the other woman. “Oh, Lady Whilton.” Harriet stared for a moment before remembering she’d not properly apologised. “I do apologize, I did not see you there.”

“My husband's valet came by, and so I thought I might see how you were doing, Alpha,” she explained, taking a sip of her punch before lowering her voice. “I agree, by the by.”

“Oh,” Harriet laughed, feeling a bit perplexed, “about what?”

“About what else?” Lady Whilton smiled, eyes sparkling. “About _revolution_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannah: I don’t know about this actress, she seems fishy,  
> Harriet, having no clue Hannah is behind her: God do I love Respecting Beta Women.  
> Hannah: Actually anyone who has a problem with Harriet is cordially invited to catch these hands.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our cast is assembled and rendered more or less competent at their roles.

The call to dinner sounded before Harriet could form a sufficiently charming reply to Lady Whilton’s sly remark, so they together made their way back to the alcove where they’d left their mates. Lottie was, of course, still chattering on with Lord Whilton, and there was now a Beta valet standing in the corner looking at the Omega with covert curiosity. Lottie, at Harriet’s approach, gave her an acknowledging smile and a brief summation.

“Lord Whilton was speaking to me about a large bath he has at his home in which he performs exercise and I have many questions about it,” the Omega explained with little pause before she began to interrogate Lord Whilton once more. “How do you keep it from getting muddy? Or is it above the ground, like a bathing tub? How large a tub it must be, if so.”

“It is within the ground, my Lady,” the Alpha answered with a small, wry smile. It occurred to Harriet that it was a convenience that Lady Lottie was quite modest in height, as otherwise the Alpha might be straining his neck to converse with her for so long. “The bottom and sides are made up of tiles, with plaster between them, which forms an effective container for the water and separates it from the dirt.”

“Oh! So it is like a very large fountain!” Lottie nodded sharply, brows knitting above her large contemplative eyes. “Harriet we must have one, I am sure the some of the pups will benefit from it. How is it constructed so that the water stays warm? And what minerals are used? How is it cleaned, or does it not get dirty?”

“I'm afraid the construction was overseen by my father, and the upkeep by the staff,” the Alpha replied. “Burton might have some answers for you.” He tilted his head and looked toward the Beta servant behind him.

“And who is this Burton?” Lottie asked, following either his gesture nor his eyes.

“Ah, my valet,” the Alpha answered, sounding almost unsure in the face of Lottie’s obliviousness to context.

“Is he here?” she asked.

“I am Burton, my Lady,” the man spoke, an amusement in his expression which Harriet was not at all certain she liked.

“My Lady, it is time to eat,” Harriet prompted her mate gently, before Lottie could respond, bringing her hand to press against the Omega’s back. She would be remiss to stand by and watch Lord Whilton attempt to gracefully conclude the conversation, knowing Lottie was likely to plowing clear on through these hints. “I’m afraid you shall have to finish this conversation at a later time, as it may not be considered appropriate for dinner.”

“Oh...” Lottie said, expression becoming forlorn for a moment before settling into acceptance and taking her mate’s arm. “Yes, that is sensible, Harriet.” 

They were not seated nearby their new acquaintances-- something which was not unexpected given what Jo had explained about dining arrangements of the upper crust-- but Lottie did not seem bothered by this. She appeared rather intent on enjoying instead the texture of her silverware against her ungloved fingertips, humming softly in the back of her throat. It always enchanted Harriet, how much pleasure she could derive from the simple sensations of everyday things. She dipped her head down and to the side so she might speak close to her mate’s ear.

“I wonder, my Lady, do you mark it unfortunate that we are not seated in a way that you may continue to converse with your new friend? Or perhaps such an arrangement would make it an irresistible temptation to return to subjects not considered appropriate for the table? I should worry myself that perhaps such scintillating conversation might lead you to neglect to eat,” she teased gently. Lottie did not respond for a time, and when she did her words were clipped and dissonant in tone.

“Are we friends now, already? It is alright. We have discussed a great many number of things, and now they are buzzing around my head like kittens after a ball of yarn. I am tired and I probably will not wish to talk to anyone for the rest of the evening. Save you, but even then only a little.”

“I understand, my Lady.” Harriet could certainly hear evidence of her mate’s exhaustion in her voice, though her tone may sound like curtness rather than weariness to most. Harriet, despite the disadvantage of a Beta’s nose, was learning to detect the more subtle differences in her mate’s scent. There was a staleness that came into it when she was overextended, and by attending to this particular note she was often able to estimate how Lottie might fare under continued strain. She inhaled now, keeping enough distance between her face and the Omega’s neck as to not be _entirely_ scandalous. The stale tone was there, but it had not gathered the dustiness to it that marked her debility as irreversible, or the sourness that broadcast an impending emotional paroxysm. She might well rally a bit, should she be given rest and quietude.

“I’m afraid that, as I’ve agreed to give a performance, it shall not be possible for us to leave directly after dinner. Would you like to perhaps retreat into the library until we go? Mayhaps they would allow you the brief use of a guest room, to lay down,” Harriet offered.

Lottie hummed louder and shook her head. “I'll watch it and then we go.”

“Watc- you mean the scene, correct?” 

Lottie nodded.

“All right,” Harriet confirmed.

When she raised her head from conferring with her wife she was not surprised to find the guest across the table eager to take up conversation with her. Harriet attended to the dinner conversation with, admittedly, only half her mind, as the other half was now considering how she might pull off a dramatic performance at a dinner party with two amateur thespians, an entirely unknown third, and little more than a half hour’s rehearsal time. Well, she thought to herself cheeringly, her troupe had certainly pulled off performances in far direr straits than these. And, she noted as she began to sup her soup, certainly with emptier bellies.

 

After dinner Harriet met with the Ladies Bradcott, Winifred, and Guinevere. Their Byke had yet to appear, though Lady Bradcott assured Harriet that her selection was quite suitable and had agreed to be on his way over after indulging in a small bit of port. Lady Winifred had not only procured the script, but had ensured the relevant excerpt was copied down fourfold onto sheets of paper for individual reference.

“You know it's a shame Thurston-- a member of my troupe-- isn't here,” Harriet mused, reviewing her lines and noting her cues, “he's a fantastic Byke.”

“Oh?” Lady Bradcott asked, pinching the stem of a delicate sherry glass between her fingers as she lounged in a stuffed armchair. She was mostly there for the sake of propriety, but she had also been induced to aid them through giving the servant’s lines. “I thought you were the only Alpha in your group, Mrs. Reed.”

“I am indeed. Thurston is an Omega, and his Byke comes to mind as an excellent example of a character brilliantly performed as an alternative dynamic.” She gave an encouraging glance to Lady Winifred here, who blushed and nearly giggled before pressing her fingers to her mouth and looking back to her script. 

“I must say,” Harriet continued, looking politely away in order to give Lady Winifred a reprieve in which to collect herself, “once you see him in the part you can quite forget that Byke was written as an Alpha in the first. He's terribly good at playing villains-- I do wish that the theater we’d auditioned for had had the guts to cast him.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “He is outrageously talented, though if you are ever to meet him do not tell that I've said that or he'll be insufferable about it.”

“I daresay I _would_ like to meet this Thurston fellow,” Lady Guinevere mused.

“If he should ever allow himself to be enticed to attend a ton function, I will endeavor to introduce you. I suppose, as it is, we are still in waiting for our Byke.”

As if on cue the door was opened by a demure Beta valet, who announced the Earl of Shorestone. 

_Speak of the devil,_ Harriet thought, and soon found how apt the saying was when the man stepped into the room. The young Earl certainly looked a villain, though hardly a low born one. His features were undeniably handsome, but also terribly sharp, and his dark eyes seemed to bore into one from beneath his thick brows. He was tall and slim and dressed pristinely in a shade of darkest black, leaning on a cane with a silver head and wearing a sneer of subtle displeasure that could shame any Duke’s. She knew then why Lady Bradcott had cast him with such confidence.

Harriet stood somewhat belatedly, the Ladies having already risen, and sketched a bow towards the imposing figure.

“My Lord, it is an honor to make your acquaintance. My name is Mrs. Reedstrom, though I am also accustomed to being called Mrs. Reed. I thank you for your generosity. It is not every Alpha who would be willing to spare their time to aid our performance.”

“I’m... familiar with the play,” he stated, voice gravely and deep even within the category of Alpha baritones. Harriet was unsure if she should tell Ciri about the fellow at her soonest opportunity or endeavor to keep the woman a thousand yards away from him at any cost. He centered his cane in front of him, resting both hands upon it. “I expect you shall supply the lines.”

“Right.” Harriet belatedly realized they hadn’t a spare copy. “Lady Bradcott, could you spare your script? We might have you read from the book, as your lines are brief and there will be no edits needed to them.” 

Lady Bradcott obliged, fortunately, and Harriet immediately took her copy of their scene and made to hand it over. Except that, apparently, one does not _hand_ things to Earls, something made evident when Lord Shorestone’s valet intercepted the page as if it were an explosive device. The Beta held the page aloft for the Alpha to read over and Harriet impressed herself by refraining from rolling her eyes. As they had limited time, and her express purpose here was to make a good impression on the ton, it was wisest to simply push forward through any snobbery.

“We are going to read the scene a few times through before we perform, to ensure all know their places and their cues and such. Your help is especially appreciated, as Byke is a rather key character in this scene in particular.”

“There are... many lines,” Lord Shorestone stated. Harriet thought perhaps he might be rethinking his cooperation.

“We can try to abridge them, if you’d wish, but I’ll beg you let us run it once as written first. Then we can see about alterations.” Harriet kept her tone imploring and cheerful, doing her best to lean on the unobtrusive Beta side of her nature. Rankling the Alpha by appearing to challenge or argue with him would do them no good at this juncture. Fortunately he seemed to accept this assurance, or at least it provoked no obvious upset. 

As they began reading it became rapidly evident that Lord Shorestone, despite his natural aura of villainy, was proving to be a rather inelegant Byke. 

His reading was spiritless and his awareness of cues woefully dull, but these issues were secondary to the fact that he kept slipping into his _Alpha_ tone despite having no lines which should even call for it. Harriet could only assume Lady Bradcott had not realized this would be a problem when she recruited him, an assumption supported when she gave a grimace which grew more alarmed with every instance. At the fourth slip, which left even Harriet wincing, she decided to call for a brief break and take the man aside. His horrible acting had, at least, done the work of quite dampening the effectiveness of his overall aura of cold distain. Not that the Alpha had let the attitude slip from his face or scent-- but Harriet could hardly maintain the same sense of unease when the man was so helplessly inept.

“May I suggest to you a trick, my Lord?” she asked, aiming for friendliness without presumption of intimacy. “You must not spread it too far, it is a secret of the theater you know,” she added, which gained her a fuller portion of Lord Shorestone’s attention. There was not an Alpha alive who could resist the lure of being let into a secret.

“When you read, keep the tip of your tongue to the bottom of your mouth, just behind the front teeth.” She demonstrated. “Try it.”

“In _dh_ i _th_ ma _h_ nner?” Lord Shorestone attempted. He scowled. “One can hardly speak.”

“Yes, this is the point of the trick-- it makes one need to think hard about forming one's words, and it's almost impossible to slip into the Voice when one must so deliberately focus on speech. Byke is usually played with some unknowable American accent, so no one will find it strange for his part.”

Lord Shorestone contemplated this prospect with an expression that could not be accurately described without use of the word “brooding.” He gave a deep hum barely separated from a growl, but his scent contained no hostility.

“Is that what you do, Mrs. Reed?” he asked finally, his cool gaze sliding to her for perhaps the first time since they met.

“Oh, I've got my own secrets,” she replied, stopping herself before she winked at him, a gesture she expected would not be taken well by an Alpha Lord. “This is just the quickest to teach. And the most effective.”

With Lord Shorestone employing the trick Harriet had taught the second half of the scene was run quite a bit more successfully. They discussed edits to make, truncating Byke’s flowery lines to spare Lord Shorestone and altering the few references to Laura’s dynamic. Lord Shorestone’s valet even offered to take over the role of the Beta Servant from Lady Bradcott. They ran it again, and agreed it was a good deal improved. After a final review, it was time at last to perform.

 

They found that the drawing room had been cleared, and an assortment of chairs positioned to form a rudimentary audience. Most guests were either seated in these chairs or standing behind them, though a few excited Omegas were lounging on the floor in front atop cushions. Lottie was seated at a far corner, eyes trained upon a necklace chain she’d brought in her pocket, winding it through her fingers and rocking slightly back and forth. She recognized this as the sort of thing Lottie did so that she could pay attention to something when she felt overwhelmed and it was difficult to do so. Harriet felt a momentary concern that others in the audience might judge her mate rude for her behavior. 

Well then, Harriet resolved, she shall just have to ensure no one can take their eyes off of _her_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I update this I add another chapter to the total chapter count WHOOPS.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our players take the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Under the Gaslight" was a real and ridiculously popular play of the Victorian era, and the excerpts included are from it’s script, with some modifications to incorporate Omegaverse components. The play is available under public domain but I don't actually recommend reading it-- like basically all Victorian pop culture it's a racist and classist mess.

Once everyone had taken to their marks Lady Bradcott moved to the front of their makeshift stage, arranging her skirts for a moment before holding her hand up and thereby hushing the murmuring of their audience.

“For your entertainment this evening,” she announced, “an excerpt from the first act of the popular melodrama _Under the Gaslight_. The scene takes place in the parlor of an elegant American apartment, at night. Miss Laura Courtland, played by Lady Winifred, is a young Beta from a respectable family, affianced to the Alpha Ray Trafford, whom Mrs. Rhet Reed has agreed to turn her talents to depicting.” There was a tittering of excitement, mostly but not exclusively from the Omega set of their audience. “Accompanying the couple is Laura's Omega cousin, Pearl Courtland, played by Lady Guinevere. Our esteemed guest, Lord Shorestone, has also generously given his time to play the role of Byke, out villain.” With her introduction completed, she moved aside and tucked herself into a stuffed chair to watch.

Lady Guinevere stood by a vase of flowers that had been placed upon a small round table. At the cue to begin the scene, she made a show of rifling through the bouquet and, with a flourish, finding the prop letter that had been stashed there.

“Oh!” she hooted, “Lau _ra_ , only look here is a billet- _doux_!” 

Harriet-as-Ray frowned, leaving Lady Winifred’s side to approach Lady Guinevere, her movements marked with the irritated bluster of an Alpha who suspects they are being teased but cannot help but take the bait. “Nonsense! Crazy head! Who would dare--” Lady Guinevere brandished the envelope, and Harriet snatched it and gasped. “A letter!”

“A letter?” Lady Winifred called, voice shaking with nerves, as she approached.

“I _am_ crazy am _I_?” Lady Guinevere taunted, crossing her arms with a smug expression. Her delivery was singsong and her gestures bombastic-- the Omega had been disappointed to realize that the chosen scene had few lines for Pearl, and seemed therefore determined to squeeze as much comedy as possible out of what she did have.

“For Miss Laura Courtland. Confidential,” Harriet read, then lifted the paper to scent, curling her lip so that the audience knew Ray had found there the smell of a strange Alpha. Her hackles rose at the very _idea_ of another Alpha presuming _confidence_ with her fiancee.

Lady Winifred laughed, the sound coming out a bit forcefully at the first, but when she spoke her line it was with more ease overall than she’d had previously. “From some goose who has made one call too many to-day. Read it, Ray.” 

Harriet unfolded the paper. “Dear Laura,” she began, but then made a sound of affront and passed the paper to Lady Winifred, who took it. Pretending to read it, she took a breath in and let her face fall into a distraught frown. “I respectfully beg you to grant me the favor of an interview tonight. I have waited until your company retired. I am waiting across the street now." 

Lady Guinevere ran to a spot at the wall and peered at it as if out of a window “A tall man in _black_ is just walking a- _way_.”

"If you will have the door opened as soon as you get this, I will step over,” Lady Winifred continued to read, “if you don't I will ring; under all circumstances I will get in. There is no need to sign my name; you will remember me. If not by scent, than as the strange Alpha whom you once saw talking with your mother in the parlor and who frightened you so much.” Lady Winnifred looked up from the letter, staring forward with an expression of dread. “What can be the meaning of this?”

Harriet approached her, concern replacing the jealousy in her scent. “Laura, you-”

“Ask me nothing,” Lady Winnifred pleaded, holding out her hand in a placating gesture. “I will tell you by and by.”

Lord Shorestone’s valet stepped forward “Miss-”

“Admit no one till you bring me the name,” Lady Winifred said quickly.

“I was about to tell you, Miss, that a strange Alpha has forced himself in at the door and asks to see you, but will give no name,” the valet read from his script.

“Kick the rascal out!” Harriet exclaimed, Ray’s concern flowing easily into his anger as she stepped forward in front of Lady Winifred.

“ _Oh!_ ” Lady Guinevere squealed, perhaps a bit too excited in her cadence. “Don't let him come here!” 

The valet was still reading his paper, but had apparently decided it wise to omit his line about his employer being ‘strange looking,’ as he said nothing more but stepped aside to make way for Lord Shorestone.

“I’ll find out what this means!” Harriet exclaimed, crossing the floor.

Here she came up to Lord Shorestone, who unfortunately rather than appearing smiling and bowing as in the script, was stiff as a board and fairly scowling. Harriet waited a beat for him to give his lines. He stared at her. 

“My Lord,” his valet, breaking character, hissed from behind him. The Alpha blinked and lifted his paper.

“I, I’ll spare you the trouble, if you’ll hear me a minute.”

“Who are you, _Alpha?_ ” she demanded, voice lowering nearly into a growl, sharp in imitation of a burgeoning Alpha edge. It produced a burst of thrilled murmuring among the audience, followed by frantic shushing. Shorestone prickled slightly, glancing from her eyes to the paper and back before reading the next lines.

“Don’t, I beg you,” he replied woodenly. “Don’t speak so crossly I might answer back then you’d kick me out and you'd never forgive yourself for it as long as I lived,” he followed up, all in one breath. 

“Your business?” she snapped in reply. “Come! Speak quickly and begone.” Despite the lackluster Byke she had to go against, the Beta was rallying brilliantly, and her pale countenance and fearful expression was well rendered even if a bit exaggerated. 

“Business on this happy day. I came for pleasure to see Miss Courtland my little pupil grown so. Only think Alpha I knew her when she was only a little pup. I taught her music.” Coming to a part where some lines had been crossed out, he paused and mouthed silently before starting up again “H her mother told me I needn't come again but I did and her mother was glad to see me. Wasn't she, little pupil?” He looked up from his paper, then back down, then up again. “Won’t you shake hands, little pupil?” he took a stride towards Lady Winifred and Lady Guinevere before leaning on his cane with his hand thrust out, and Harriet grabbed on to the back of his collar as he passed. The Lord’s somewhat unstable gait and fine clothing made an unrealistically gentle grasp the prudent choice, so she tried to sell it best she could with the tension on her arm and her jaw. “Don’t, the stuff is old I’ve no other.” Lord Shorestone protested.

“This fellow is drunk!” she declared, raising the edge of her mouth with a hint of a sneer. “Leave the house!”

“What after send _ing that touching-_ ” Harriet noted the waiver in his tone that forewarned that he was about to slip into the Alpha Voice.

“Watch your tongue, Alpha!” she improvised, cutting him off. His jaw worked as he processed the reminder and awkwardly posed his tongue as he’d been instructed. 

“That. Touching. Bouquet,” he corrected. Harriet felt a moment of longing for Thurston’s rendering of the character-- fulsome and snide and rather much more natural to play against. 

But Harriet would hardly be an actor worth the title should she not be able to conjure up the passion needed for herself. As the moment at which Ray was set to use his Alpha voice approached, Harriet drew deep upon her base protective instincts, the emotion and memories that they illuminated like a spark catching on kindling paper, flames curling in the belly of a hearth. She thought of Lottie, her ferocity and her fragility at once, as she listened to the lines being read. 

“It was you, then?” Lady Winifred’s voice trembled, “I knew it.” 

_Listening to Lottie through the door in the inn, recounting how the Alphas had seen her as sport. The aching and outrage blooming sharp like a wound in her breast. Fury that felt like molten lead in her veins as she learned of the men that had treated her kiss as plunder and her consent as a trifle below their notice._

“You see. She knows me.” Shorestone’s reply sounded almost muffled as Harriet called up the acrid scent of her Omega’s sudden fear, the rot of her distress, _teeth biting down on slender fingers._

“Leave this house at once.” 

_A defiant voice tinged with fear. Dark eyes wide with terror, wide with love. Brave as Juliet, braver even. That terrible moment when Wilson had advanced on Lottie and_ dared _to use his_ Voice _on her._

“Not until. I have spoken to you, Beta.”

Her cue given, Harriet seized Shorestone by the arm.

“ _You miserable **rascal**_ ,” she growled in a tone that was at once carefully practiced and as natural as breathing. All of the sharpness and depth of an Alpha Voice but without the rumbling undertone that seemed to be the actual mechanism behind it’s persuasive power. The audience gasped and squealed, someone hooted and there were a few startled claps. 

Shorestone looked at her with what partially resembled an infuriated scowl, though his scent read as alarmed confusion moreso than rage. A sudden manifestation of acting talent? An attempt to cover for his shock, perhaps? It intrigued Harriet, though now was not the time to examine it.

“Don't, pray don’t,” Shorestone spoke at last. “I weigh a hundred and ninety eight pounds, and if you attempt to throw me about you’ll strain yourself.”

Lady Winifred came over to them, jaw set with determination as she faced Shorestone-- Laura with the steel core of a Beta's steadfastness, trembling but defiant against the dark specter of her past.

“Go. Tomorrow in the morning I will see you.”

Lord Shorestone was so visibly _relieved_ to be dismissed that it was hard not to crack a smile, but Harriet managed.

“I thank you, Beta, for your forbearance,” he responded, though by gaze he appeared to be addressing the paper in his hand rather than Lady Winifred. “I am also obliged to you Alpha for not throwing me out this window. I wish you good night and many happy returns of the day.” Harriet released him and rushed to Lady Winifred, clasping her hands and pushing concern to the forefront of her scent. She called up Lottie in her mind, lavender and honey and porcelain, her dark searching eyes, and lets the spark of this bring bloom to the passionate concern needed for her part.

As Harriet held the Beta’s hands in her own the girl flushed, lips parting without emitting a sound. There was a breathless moment before her line came to her, and she extricated one hand from Harriet’s hold to point it tremblingly after Shorestone.

“S see that he goes.”

This line, and the chiming of a bell as substitute for curtains drawn, marked the end of their scene, and their audience let loose with enthusiastic applause. Harriet released Lady Winifred's hand and clasped her own behind her hips, smiling down at the Beta who’d played her Laura. “Wonderful work, my Lady,” she said beneath the sound of cheering.

Lady Winifred flushed even redder, letting out a nervous giggle.

“Now let us make up a line to bow for our audience,” she prompted, looking for Lady Guinevere over her twin’s shoulder. Guinevere eagerly took to Winifred’s other side. Harriet turned and beckoned to Lord Shorestone. He gave her hand a glance as if it were a snake. 

“No,” he said, and turned away. Harriet shrugged minutely, offered her hand instead to the valet, who shook his head and followed his Lord. Alright then. She bowed low to her audience, Lady Guinevere and Lady Winifred curtsying beside her.

As Harriet expected, as soon as Lady Bradcott called for tea to be brought the three of them were quickly mobbed by debutantes and matrons alike.

“Oh that was wonderful!” a voice exclaimed from her left.

“Fantastic!” another cried from behind before Harriet had the chance to find and thank the source of the first comment.

“How _do_ you do that with your voice? It was so near to the very thing, yet it wasn’t,” asked a slight Omega in lightest periwinkle, who despite her size had done a decent job of elbowing her way to the front of the fray.

“I’m afraid that is proprietary information,” Harriet chuckled, winking slyly, which prompted a shower of tittering and a fluttering of fans.

“Oh Alpha,” another Omega cut into the clatter, hand pressed to her chest, “when you used your _Voice_ I dare say I could have _swooned_ , even without it being the true article. You were so manful in protecting your,” she hesitated a moment, glancing to Lady Winifred “well, Beta.”

“And Lady Winifred, you were quite good, I daresay you held your own up there,” the periwinkle Omega added.

“Th thank y-”

“And how bold of you to play Laura as a Beta!” one of the Beta girls who'd braved the throng exclaimed from the vantage her height afforded her.

“Is Laura not meant to be a Beta?” one of the matrons asked, adjusting her spectacles.

“No Auntie,” the Omega who claimed to have nearly swooned replied with a roll of her eyes, “she is meant to be an _Omega_.”

“Well, I never should have known should you not have told me,” the matron replied, and tapped her cane against the floor with a pointed rap. “Well _done_ my Lady.”

“Oh, uhm, I, oh,” Lady Winifred babbled, clearly unaccustomed to such attention.

“Her Ladyship was a wonderful Laura, I am glad she agreed to be cast in the role. Really, my only regret is that we did not have the time to include Ray's earlier banter with Pearl,” Harriet mused, hoping her comment might divert attention from Winifred, who looked as if she might dissolve into another fit of nervous giggles, and redirect it to Guinevere, who for her part seemed to be growing a tad peeved about being ignored.

“Oh yes, you were quite funny, I do wish you'd had more lines!” one of the Omegas said to Guinevere, who puffed up at the praise and moved closer to Harriet. 

“An actress must make do with what she has,” she said with dignity.

“Speaking of making do-- have I lived up to my reputation, then?” Harriet gave a wink to Lady Guinevere which pinkened her cheeks. “What say you, Miss Critic? How did I fare under humble conditions?” Lady Guinevere looked away and then back in an innocently flirtatious gesture, a small smile playing on her lips.

“I say that Mr. Thorne best hurry back from Bristol if he wants a leading role in London, for as soon as you return to auditioning his services will be rendered quite unnecessary” she declared.

“ E either that or he must stay there and work very hard to improve himself…” Winifred added, having covered her face with her fan and regained some of her composure, “...and perhaps wait to return until you're already tied up in a contract.”

“I admit I would prefer the latter,” Harriet confessed, “an Alpha needs a good rival to keep her sharp.”

“Any sharper and you'll run him through,” Gertrude giggled, the rest of the crowd following suit as Harriet mused to herself that Thurston probably had _that_ well covered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished editing this while semi-catatonically sick so hopefully it all still hangs together?? The next chapter is only like 1/3 written so not sure if I will be able to update on time, we will have to see.


End file.
